


In a Hurry, There's So Much Time

by ViaLethe



Category: Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Role Reversal, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-12
Updated: 2012-09-12
Packaged: 2017-11-14 02:10:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Wash is the hardened war vet - well, okay, the not-totally-soft war vet - first mate and Zoe the uber-competent pilot, some things change, while others remain the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Hurry, There's So Much Time

**Author's Note:**

> For the lj comment_fic community, off the prompt _Zoe is the pilot and Wash is the first mate who went to war with Mal_.

“I dunno, Sarge. Something about her bothers me, that's all.”

“Bothers you?” Mal looks at his first mate, standing there with his shock of bright hair on end, dressed in the loudest shirt in the 'verse. “Bit rich, that, coming from you. Anyhow, this girl's got a rec list long as my arm, what've you got to set against that?”

“I dunno,” Wash says, voice low, peeking back down the hallway towards the bridge. “It's just...there's something about her.”

“Uh huh. This 'something' wouldn't happen to be in your pants, would it?”

Wash gives him an aggrieved look, crossing his arms. “Mal, you wound me. I just don't know that I want to trust our ship to a woman who looks like she'd think nothing of killing me in my sleep.”

“Wash, you survived a war – and I know, cause I was there – and other than your disturbin' tendency to go 'round wearing the ugliest clothes in existence, doesn't seem to have done you much harm. What cause you got to be frightened of one woman?”

“She's _scary_ , Mal,” Wash hissed.

Suddenly there's a shadow in the doorway, and both men look up at the woman standing there, dressed in leather with her hand on her hip. “If you want me to pretend I'm deaf, that's gonna cost extra.”

***

After they escape the reavers, there's no words to describe the pride in Wash's smile, though Zoe's as calm and unruffled as always. That woman's got nerves of steel for sure, thinks Mal, and that's come in handy more than once.

“Think you could handle taking the helm for a bit, Mal?” she asks, turning in her chair. “That kind of flying always gives me a bit of a rush.” Standing, she grabs Wash by the lapels of his coat. “I need this man to tear all my clothes off.”

“It never ends,” Wash says with a shrug, as he's dragged off, and it would be a lie to say Mal ain't just the tiniest bit jealous of what his best friend's found with Zoe, but at the same time, Wash saved his life plenty of times, deserves whatever happiness he can find.

***

“Is it Mal who don't trust me to go out on jobs, or is it you?” she'd asked coldly, and he couldn't explain that it wasn't about trust, wasn't about wanting to protect her even, cause god and Wash both knew Zoe could handle herself. It's not that he's jealous of his place with Mal either, though he's sure the Captain would be flattered by that one, once he stopped laughing about it. No, it's more that he didn't want her to have to be a part of this, that he wanted to keep her as a safe harbor for himself, outside of war and evil.

Maybe that was wrong of him, maybe it was trying to protect her in a way, but surely it doesn't deserve this, he thinks, leading his limping wife out of Niska's space station, Mal's screams still echoing in his ears.

***

“Wait,” Kaylee says, pausing even in the middle of panic cause she's Kaylee, and she'll always notice people before anything other than an engine, “Zoe! Where's Zoe?”

“She's not coming.” Wash loads his rifle systematically, not allowing himself to think, not beyond this minute, cause that's always been his secret, the way he can be himself most of the time, flighty and goofy, and then turn on a dime and be nothing but cold precision in battle. “And those bastards are going to pay for it.”


End file.
